by Russ Watts
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Benzo looked through the crack in the door, incredulous. Brad was alive, and he was pissed. Benzo had come down from the steeple, casually winding his way down the staircase until he’d heard strange noises coming from the church. Fearing the zombies had broken in, he quietly slipped into the vestibule and opened the door, just a crack, enough to see through. He had seen Brad giving Tom a good beating. Brad was waving a gun around and the others were sat with their hands on their heads. What was happening?
Benzo had listened as Brad explained how he had survived the crash and what they were going to do next.
“He’s mad,” said Benzo under his breath. When Brad sent the others to search for weapons, Benzo realised there was precious little time left to do anything. He knew he had to do something though; if Brad took them outside, they would all wind up dead. There were thumping noises now coming from the kitchen. So Brad had been right, the dead had followed him. Maybe it was better they leave now. If they stayed, how many would be at the door by morning?
In the dark storeroom, Benzo crouched down. What could he do? If he rushed out there into the church, Brad would be surprised, but then what? Would he shoot him? Would he tie him up, leave him here to die? Benzo had always gotten on well with Brad, but he’d flipped. This wasn’t the same Brad he had worked with and shared a pint with. This Brad was nasty, cruel: sadistic. And what was that comment about Amber about? Benzo was finding it difficult to accept the new order, but he had to; his friends’ lives were depending on him.
“What would dad do?” he said. In the darkness of the storeroom, he looked around for help. Boxes, books, chairs, nothing of use; surprise was his only weapon. Benzo returned to the door. Brad held a gun to Christina’s head. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but he knew the scene and how it would play out. He watched as Brad forced Christina’s head down and Benzo turned away, sickened and shaking with anger. How could Brad do this? Benzo was so angry and frustrated that he wanted to charge in there and kill him.
‘Control it,’ he thought. If I charge in there like an elephant, Brad will probably shoot me in surprise. Or Christina. Or maybe everyone.
Benzo felt hopeless. What could he do? If he went into the kitchen and opened the door, the dead would rush in and cause Brad a major problem, but it would jeopardise his friends too. He couldn’t retreat back up the steeple and do nothing. He may as well slit his friends’ throats now himself if he did that. He decided that the best course of action was to surprise Brad. He would hide in the kitchen and when Brad came in, jump him. Brad had the gun, but Benzo had the element of surprise and he had to make it count. He could hide behind the door and pounce as soon as he saw Brad coming.
Benzo opened the door to the kitchen quietly. To his shock, the thumps he had heard were not coming from outside but inside. Reggie threw himself upon Benzo and grabbed his neck.
“Get off, what the hell are you doing?” Benzo tried to push Reggie off but he was heavy. They rolled around on the kitchen floor. As they fought, they clattered into the shelves and benches, knocking jars over and a bottle fell to the floor, smashing into pieces. Reggie tore a chunk from Benzo’s cheek and he screamed.
* * * *
“What was that?” said Brad. He pushed Christina off and zipped his trousers back up. Christina spat once more onto the dusty floor and grabbed Tom.
“Please, Tom, wake up,” she said. Tom murmured incoherently as Christina shook his shoulders.
“Who the fuck is in there?” shouted Brad.
Jackson, Caterina, Jessica, and Rosa all came running. Tom was stirring and Caterina bent down over him.
“Is he all right?” asked Jessica.
“Yes, just help me get him to his feet,” said Christina. As they picked Tom up, Caterina whispered to Christina the plan to escape.
Brad pointed the gun squarely at Christina as Tom sagged over her shoulder. “What the hell is going on in there? You said this was it, there was nobody else. Who haven’t you told me about?”
“Nobody,” said Jackson, “it must be Reggie, he must have woken up.” Jackson took a few steps casually toward Christina, trying to put himself between her and the gun.
“You said he was infected. If he’s woken up, then who’s doing the screaming?” Brad was shouting loudly, the gun trembling in his unsteady hands.
“Reggie’s infected? What?” said Christina.
“Oh God, Benzo,” said Jessica.
More crashing and banging came from behind the door and then it stopped.
“I’m going to see,” said Jackson.
“No, you stay here,” said Brad. Jackson thought about trying to grab the gun. He was only a few feet away from Brad but it was risky. The gun could go off with Brad so out of control like this.
“You,” Brad said to Rosa. “You go. If you don’t come back in one minute I’ll shoot Christina.”
“Brad, let me go, it’s not safe.” Jackson took another step toward Brad.
“Please, Brad,” said Jessica.
Brad pointed the gun to the ceiling and fired. The blast drew a curtain of dust down upon them and the shot pierced the silence like a pin bursting a balloon.
“Last chance,” said Brad.
“It’s all right, Jess, I’ll go,” said Rosa. She approached the door and took a look back over her shoulder.
“I’m waiting,” said Brad.
Rosa pushed the door open and stepped into the dark storeroom. The candlelight from the church lit the gloom and she could see the room was empty; boxes and chairs, but no Benzo.
“There’s no one here, I’m going into the kitchen,” she called out.
Rosa pushed the kitchen door open and saw two figures on the floor. Reggie was face down with Benzo sat on his back. Reggie’s face was mushed into the stone floor, blood curdling around his broken skull. Benzo still gripped Reggie’s head, his fingers entwined in Reggie’s matted hair.
“Benzo?”
Rosa walked to him slowly, quietly: carefully. Benzo got up and leant on the worktop.
“I had to, he was...he was infected. He just attacked me. I couldn’t get him off and then...” Benzo reached up to his face and touched the wound on his face.
“He bit me. He fucking bit me!”
From the church, they heard Brad calling out, asking what was happening.
“Benzo, he’s got a gun. If we don’t go in there, he’s going to shoot Christina. Probably everyone.” Rosa spoke in a hushed whisper.
“Right, then, let’s not keep him waiting,” said Benzo.
Rosa finally reappeared with Benzo and Jessica gasped.
“Benzo, you’re hurt, what happened?”
“Never mind that,” said Brad. “What about Reggie? You finish him off?”
Benzo walked directly toward Brad as Rosa returned to Jessica’s side. Brad raised the gun at Benzo.
“Hold it, buddy, that’s close enough.”
Benzo stopped when the gun was inches away from his face.
“Brad, you shit, what are you doing? There’s no need for all this. I wish you had died back there on the bus. I went back to look for you, you know?”
“Shit happens, buddy.” Brad looked at Benzo’s bleeding cheek. “Looks like Reggie got a chunk out of you.”
Benzo nodded and sighed. “Looks like the end of the road for me, eh, Brad?”
He said it with such a cool level tone, that Brad was caught off guard. How could he be so calm knowing he was dying?
“Well, you’re not done yet. In fact, we were just leaving. You can come with us for now. When you’re done, I won’t let you turn, I’ll put you down.”
Tom was conscious now and Christina was quietly filling him in: Reggie, the escape plan, Benzo, and Brad’s growing psychosis.
Benzo shook his head. “No, Brad.” He took a step forward so he was within touching distance of him.
“Benzo, we’re leaving. Your wrestling match with Reggie will have brought more of those things. We ca
n’t stay here,” said Brad.
“He’s right,” said Tom. “We have to leave.”
Benzo shook his head again. “Not all of us have to leave. You see, Brad, I’m infected, which means in a few hours I’ll be dead. It’s a pisser, it really is, but I’m not going down without a fight. I’ve got nothing to lose now.”
A smile spread across Benzo’s face. Jackson realised what Benzo was planning. He’d lost the element of surprise, but he had another weapon now; the infection. Jackson looked at Christina and nodded.
Benzo and Brad stared at each other. Suddenly, Benzo jumped forward and grabbed Brad’s arm. The gun fired and a bullet whistled past Benzo’s ear, ricocheting off a stone gargoyle and embedding itself in the cross above the altar.
Benzo and Brad tussled on the floor. Brad was trying to get the gun back to face Benzo, who was busy trying to bite Brad anywhere he could.
“Let’s go, now!” shouted Jackson. “Those gunshots will alert more of the dead to our location. Cat, your light?”
She flicked on her phone. Jackson, Christina, Caterina, and Rosa, ran to the storeroom.
“We need to take the weapons!” said Jessica. She frantically grabbed some of the crosses and candle sticks they had gathered up earlier. She quickly tossed them to Rosa who handed them around.
“Benzo!” said Tom, looking for an angle at which he could join the fight and help. Benzo was still struggling with Brad on the floor. Suddenly the gun went off again and the bullet shattered the tall arched window above them. As pieces of glass fell around them, Tom saw his chance.
He lunged and grabbed Brad’s arm. Brad was unable to hold off both Benzo and Tom, and finally relinquished his hold of the gun. Brad rolled away and the gun skidded across the floor. They all stood up. Benzo was panting and coughing.
“Unlucky, buddy, you didn’t get me,” said Brad wearing a wicked smile. Benzo hadn’t been able to bite him, but had managed to end up nearer the gun. He bent down and picked it up. He raised it at Brad.
“Oh, come on, you’re not going to shoot me, Benzo,” said Brad, sweating and dirty.
Benzo stared at him and kept the gun pointed at Brad’s head.
“Why shouldn’t I?”
The smile faded from Brad’s face as he realised Benzo might just do it. “I can help you. I...I can help you fight those things out there. Come on, buddy, don’t do this.”
“Is that what Amber said to you, when you killed her?” he said. “Or Chloe? Who else, Brad? I saw what you did to Christina.”
“What does he mean?” said Caterina.
“Nothing.” Christina gripped the heavy golden candelabra in her hands and looked at the floor. She pressed her teeth together and pursed her lips.
“Let’s go, Benzo. It’s going to be swarming with zombies in here a minute,” said Tom. Benzo lowered the gun and then passed it to Tom.
“I shouldn’t come with you, I’m infected. I’m a liability now.”
“Fuck that. You’re coming with us for as long as you can. We’d be dead if it wasn’t for you. Go to the others. We’re getting out of here, together.”
Tom took the gun and Benzo joined the others at the storeroom. They were watching from the doorway, waiting for Benzo and Tom. They had one item each to defend themselves; Christina and Caterina held solid candle sticks whilst Jackson and Jessica held thick crosses. Jackson told Rosa about the dustbins by the back door. They were metal and had solid lids with handles; they would make perfect shields, and once outside, she was to grab both. Jackson was praying the zombies outside wouldn’t have converged too closely to the church door.
“Ain’t that sweet,” said Brad getting to his feet and walking toward Tom. “You’re gonna take Benzo with you, even though he’s infected? What about me, you gonna leave me here?”
“No, I’m not gonna leave you here, buddy,” said Tom. He pulled the trigger and shot Brad in the left leg, just above the knee. Brad screamed and fell to the floor clutching his leg as blood spurted out.
“You fucker, Tom, you dirty fucker!” Brad shouted through gritted teeth. The pain soared through his body as he sat on the floor holding his bleeding leg.
“I’d say there are two bullets left, wouldn’t you, Brad?” said Tom pointing the gun at him.
“Please, Tom, don’t.” Brad looked at him with pleading eyes. “Don’t kill me, I’m sorry, I’ll help you. Please, buddy, please.”
Brad began crying and his tears splashed onto the stone church floor. Snot ran from his nose and at that point, Tom thought Brad looked no older than a ten year old boy.
“Pathetic,” said Christina under her breath.
“Oh, I’m not going to kill you,” said Tom. “Why would I waste the last two bullets we’ve got on you?”
Tom lowered the gun and tucking it into his belt, walked to the storeroom. He turned to give Brad one last withering look. The others had opened the kitchen door and were waiting to leave. Christina had waited for Tom. She looked at Brad sitting on the floor. He had shuffled back against the wall, leaving a trail of blood behind him. He was pale and weak, nothing like the confident man she had met twenty four hours earlier.
“We probably won’t have time to shut the door on our way out. You might want to try saying a prayer. Sorry, buddy,” said Tom. He took Christina into the kitchen as Brad howled and moaned, alone in the church.
“Right, we ready for this?” said Tom.
“I’ll go out first,” said Jackson nodding. “Head down, barrel right through them like a bowling ball. Rosa next, she’s going to grab the bin lids, use them as shields, then Cat with the light. After that, it’s everyone for themselves.”
“You good with this, Cat?” said Tom.
“Just make sure,” she said smiling, “that the last one out leaves the door open.”
Tom winked at her and Jackson pulled the door open.
“Go!”
Jackson rushed headlong into the night and true to his word, kept his head down. The cluster of zombies tried to grab him, but his momentum carried him through until he was clear. Hands tore at his clothing but could not get enough grip to slow him. With Jackson outside, the zombies’ attention were drawn to him and away from the door.
Rosa sprinted out and saw the bins. She snapped up the metal lids quickly and instantly put them to use, smashing into an approaching figure. As they darted outside, Cat kept firm hold on her phone. If she dropped it, they would be separated and lost with no idea where to go.
Tom followed the light as it bounced up and down in the dark. Jessica and Christina managed to stick close to him as they ran. The pack of dead by the church sensed the living were close and turned to follow them. Tom jabbed at gnarled grabbing fingers, trying to dodge the figures in the graveyard.
Jackson had fallen on the ground and jumped up. He saw Caterina’s light heading away from him and ran. A dead child suddenly loomed out at him from behind a gravestone and Jackson slashed at its face. The silver cross he held left a gash across the child’s face and it fell back out of his way. As it fell, another attacked. Red, raw fingers reached up from a freshly dug grave and grabbed Jackson’s ankles. He tripped and fell into the muddy ground. The fingers pulled at his feet and he kicked out. The hands disappeared as the dead body was unable to get enough purchase on Jackson to pull him down, or to haul itself up out of the grave. Jumping up, Jackson ran, following the light.
Rosa continued to batter and beat at anything that came close. A dead postman, the skin hanging off his face in tatters, jumped at her and she swung the metal lid at him, cleaving his frail skull in half. Caterina’s light bounced off the metal lids, illuminating dead bodies and grotesque faces, feet away, inches away, desperately reaching for them.
Jessica stabbed the cross into a man’s face, green slime slithering down her hands as she burst his eyeballs. A recently deceased housewife tried to grab her. More blood splattered over Jessica as she skewered the woman’s neck, ramming the cross up to the hilt, only Jesus’ head protrudin
g.
They kept running, down the road, past the crashed cars and vans as the zombies gradually thinned out. A lone street light stood casting a yellow-orangey glow over the junction ahead and Caterina stopped beneath it. She was trying to suck in air, finding running difficult whilst being four months pregnant.
Christina, Rosa, and Jessica, soon joined her. They looked down the road and saw two figures running toward them. Benzo and Tom appeared, the church receding behind them.
“How far?” said Tom.
“Not too far,” said Caterina wheezing. “It’s just...”
There was an almighty bang as Rosa swung her metal shield low over the pavement, the shield striking the dog’s head full on. It only had three legs and she sent the dog flying backwards, the terrier crashing into a car and sliding down to the tarmac. It appeared dazed, but not dead. It dragged its carcass slowly across the road, sharp teeth bared, putrid eyes covered in a grey fungal growth. There was no way it could see, but it could smell them.
Christina took her candelabra, walked over to the advancing dog, and pulverised the terrier with the weighted base. She cracked the dogs skull open and it lay on the road, twitching, until she had crushed its head completely.
“Where’s Jackson?” said Benzo. The darkness of the road offered no sight of him. Shapes moved in the dark, the infected dead following the light and the noise of the living.
“There!” said Jessica, pointing to the footpath on the other side of the road.
Jackson was fighting with another man. They saw Jackson disappear behind the car as a dead man fell on top of him.
“Jackson!” exclaimed Christina.
Benzo and Tom rushed over to help him. Tom beat at the zombies head as Benzo pulled it off. Jackson got to his feet.
“Thanks,” he said as Benzo pushed the creature away. It staggered for a few seconds before resuming its attack. As the walking corpse shambled towards Tom, he shot it at point blank range. Its head flung back and the body fell to the ground.
“Only one bullet left, Tom. Save it, you don’t know when we’re going to need it,” said Benzo.
They rejoined the others under the street light.